tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7238986052899247062024-03-05T01:16:35.819-08:00Life, The Universe...Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02241948856604117736noreply@blogger.comBlogger45125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-723898605289924706.post-14998137446363064372012-06-15T04:03:00.001-07:002012-06-15T04:03:54.016-07:00Honesty<i>I'm nervous about posting this. Here are things that I've never told anyone, here I am bearing my inner thoughts and fears. Talking about this may help and that's why I feel I have to. Even if no one reads this it will not be a wasted effort. I have given words to my fears. And words cannot hurt me.</i><br />
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Things have been rough for me for a while and I finally decided to get some help for it. I've had a hard time sleeping for years and have some residual effects from my deployments. It was finally the right time to try and work something out. Going on 3 deployments to a war zone is bound to change someone, and it has changed me, that is very obvious. I used to be optimistic to the point of annoyance, ask the people that know me. Now I find that I am very cynical. I don't really like that. I also have a hard time enjoying the things I used to do. Just look through this blog. I don't write as much and my photography definitely has suffered. The joy just isn't there.<br />
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I realized that a lot of that has to do with a lack of sleep. Falling asleep isn't a problem for me, staying asleep is. I toss and turn all night and wake up several times in the few hours that I am able to actually sleep. It's exhausting, and has become completely unbearable as of late. I'm tired when I wake up and am tired throughout the day. I don't know why I have such a hard time sleeping. I didn't have any traumatic experiences while deployed that would cause nightmares, or so I thought.<br />
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I'm seeing a counselor. One of the things we've discussed is my deployments. Talking about those years I came to an understanding and it was all because of one question: Did you feel safe at any time while on deployment? No, how could I have? Combine that with the other experiences that I've been through and that adds up quickly. I didn't feel safe then. I don't feel safe now. I live on a base with live fire ranges. I know it's irrational. I know that there are no enemies trying to kill me here, but I feel like a target. I feel like one of those rounds will hit me on day. I hear the explosions and gun fire and think that the next one will come through the roof of my house or where I work. I feel vulnerable no matter I am. It's hard living like this.<br />
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I am also seeing a psychiatrist. I'm taking some medication to help me with my sleep and anxiety issues. Yesterday was the second time taking those medications. I went to bed around midnight and woke up around 8 AM. I felt rested, and I don't remember tossing and turning last night, nor did I wake up. It will take a while for the anxiety medication to start to work-4 to 6 weeks-but I'm hopeful that it will help. It's a start at least.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02241948856604117736noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-723898605289924706.post-91690391510448640752012-06-12T08:54:00.000-07:002012-06-12T08:54:33.426-07:00Work, Work, Work...And I'm using the term "work" loosely. I don't actually work anymore. The unit is deployed and there just isn't much to do. I've been on night shift for a week just watching storage containers making sure that no one messes with them. This weekend was a 12 hour shift-9 PM to 9 AM. And summer here is kinda sucking. Last month we actually had a week and a half of great weather in the mid 80s. Now? 60s. Seriously? This is summer? 60 degrees in the day and down to 40 at night. Yeah, it's time to leave Germany. Got a bit of a wait though, March of next year.<div>
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And that is my life for June of 2012. Sigh...</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02241948856604117736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-723898605289924706.post-60438911760202760162012-05-09T13:09:00.002-07:002012-05-09T13:12:26.016-07:00Amsterdam. Yeah, I've Been ThereI took a trip recently to the Netherlands. The family and I went to Amsterdam and Keukenhof-which is where they grow a lot of the tulips sold around the world. It was a fun trip and I have a few pics here.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi68IEN1F-A4BRtsVISlIbvBaaJ9NCfRBSp4TR3hDTeXGYyOAyEqr_DMhDh4wXVXym6G0lsTKSLo-xG9pMfG7qGuHkgYaQJYfQjXtD29nsjOzeW98R-Bkr9M1t0WRh-QCUKvr9qzXOn8-RN/s1600/20120505-_MG_2112.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi68IEN1F-A4BRtsVISlIbvBaaJ9NCfRBSp4TR3hDTeXGYyOAyEqr_DMhDh4wXVXym6G0lsTKSLo-xG9pMfG7qGuHkgYaQJYfQjXtD29nsjOzeW98R-Bkr9M1t0WRh-QCUKvr9qzXOn8-RN/s320/20120505-_MG_2112.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">This is Amsterdam. There are canals everywhere, hence the nickname "Venice of the North.</span> "</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrtnrWx1i9F49-cxv-ezRf5g9S6aEIIU7vTIeE_0hrGkJK3a6SYOOHAfKlFgs4wz7we-QcT1lOUlJycrL6H-vFm9zolUOziXZAdcLLHyv1WzoYgBCwmtkqHBi32sOlXHhd0v6AI1CmlgAN/s1600/20120505-_MG_2120.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrtnrWx1i9F49-cxv-ezRf5g9S6aEIIU7vTIeE_0hrGkJK3a6SYOOHAfKlFgs4wz7we-QcT1lOUlJycrL6H-vFm9zolUOziXZAdcLLHyv1WzoYgBCwmtkqHBi32sOlXHhd0v6AI1CmlgAN/s320/20120505-_MG_2120.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">The wife wanted to go to The Grasshopper coffee shop and pick up one of their t-shirts. She got one for me the last time she was here and wanted one of her own. Unfortunately, we couldn't find The Grasshopper. That is until I looked at this pic and saw it in the background. Now at least we know where it is. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgNs7A4v4xHwiw3Tq33YPRmL671sygqTcMuyfAe2U9ykw8ZHjg4wvp-zVD84azzhYN_aKsqSbm7o1-azC1nFur1RO2jCv4ZpT2qSVCEYe9y9g5VEeXR6fpy_ppJMOliMmtRrTXrDdFA7o-/s1600/20120506-_MG_2238.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgNs7A4v4xHwiw3Tq33YPRmL671sygqTcMuyfAe2U9ykw8ZHjg4wvp-zVD84azzhYN_aKsqSbm7o1-azC1nFur1RO2jCv4ZpT2qSVCEYe9y9g5VEeXR6fpy_ppJMOliMmtRrTXrDdFA7o-/s320/20120506-_MG_2238.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">This is the main entrance to Keukenhof. This is where they grow a lot of the tulips that are exported throughout the world.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_1rclersccCi77ugqi45xn6VMPF_HPYDsfHSIGef4dz4Xexe9b5Kf-dp8UVmCRzs1D69H8GbaqAZknq5yToasGo3HKPWzpmb6qk0rQZghFnEquxCoUF_pKFuMm22WBW6kKjmWyOcQZJLZ/s320/20120506-_MG_2431.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">Lots of pretty plants, and a ton more tourists.</span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_1rclersccCi77ugqi45xn6VMPF_HPYDsfHSIGef4dz4Xexe9b5Kf-dp8UVmCRzs1D69H8GbaqAZknq5yToasGo3HKPWzpmb6qk0rQZghFnEquxCoUF_pKFuMm22WBW6kKjmWyOcQZJLZ/s1600/20120506-_MG_2431.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
I'm going to post some of these pics to my Flickr account the next couple of days, I'll put up a post when I get around to that.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02241948856604117736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-723898605289924706.post-59746903616014678432012-04-09T12:38:00.001-07:002012-04-09T12:38:45.547-07:00RevelationsIt only takes one time. The one time it takes to re-read an article or chapter. The one time it takes to hit a shutter. That could be the one time that it takes to understand something fully. I had a revelation of my own the other day, a simple one at that. I've been using my camera, a Canon EOS T1i, for a while now. I've read about a half dozen photography books, checked out numerous blog posts and now I understand a simple concept. A simple solution as to why my pics don't pop as much as they should. White balance. I've ordered a grey card to set my white balance properly. What is white balance? Setting the white balance is vital to getting proper color in photographs. As soon as it gets here I'm going to give it a shot and see how it looks.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02241948856604117736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-723898605289924706.post-38716025412575251672012-03-11T09:57:00.001-07:002012-03-11T09:57:47.608-07:00Trips And PlansThe family and I have been doing a bit of traveling as of late. Last weekend we went down to München (or Munich for those not familiar with the German name) for the day. On the way we stopped at Dachau and toured the concentration camp there. It was an interesting experience. We spent about an hour and a half there, got a lot of good pics from the place as well. I do have pictures, I swear. I know what you're saying, pics or it didn't happen. I'm lazy, give me time. In München we went to the Deutsches Museum. We got there about an hour before it closed and that is no where enough time to see even a small part of it. I will be going back there.<br />
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Speaking of trips, went to Berlin three weeks ago. We went and saw the Berlin Wall which is now The East Gallery. The imagery on the wall was great and made some great pictures. I have a problem though. I don't have a wide enough angled lens-something I have to fix in the future.<br />
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This weekend we went to Nürnberg and saw the sites in the downtown area. It's pretty interesting there. Lots of buildings that have been there for hundreds of years beside ones that less than 10 years old. I would have taken pictures of that but the sky was just too...blah. That works in some instances, but not for me on that day. The plan is to go back in a few weeks when the weather is better.<br />
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We are also planning to go to several other places in the next few months. The plans haven't been finalized, but should be soon.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02241948856604117736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-723898605289924706.post-57782550174771215822012-02-25T14:26:00.000-08:002012-02-25T14:26:12.605-08:00ICS and MeI updated my tablet (ASUS Eee Pad Transformer) OS to Ice Cream Sandwich yesterday. At first everything went great. I rummaged around the new OS trying to see what changed and what stayed the same. I like the new look. The notification section is improved and looks great. I like the crisp clean look of the interface. The setting have also been revamped and expanded upon. I'm not going to go into detail about all the changes, I'm not running a tech blog here after all. What I will say is that ICS impressed me. But that was last night.<br />
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I warmed up my tablet and again started playing around with it seeing what was new again. Then the tablet started getting really unresponsive. And then it froze completely. I had almost every app I tried today crash. Basically, what happened was that my tablet became virtually unusable. Let me take that back, it wasn't virtually unusable, it was completely unusable.<br />
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I tried the tablet again tonight. And everything seems to be fine. The only thing I did was switch from the live wallpaper to a standard one. After that all seems right with the world. Hmm, don't know what the problem was, but I'm glad everything works OK. Final verdict: ICS is great.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02241948856604117736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-723898605289924706.post-49848965536036176072012-02-24T14:10:00.000-08:002012-02-24T14:10:03.245-08:00The ReturnSo, I've been gone for quite a while. And my lack of posts proves that. Where was I, you ask? OK, just go with it. I know you didn't ask, but whatever. I was in Afghanistan for six months. A poor internet connection is not conductive to writing and such. I got home about a month and a half ago. I went to work for a week or so, then I took a bit of well deserved vacation time. Hey! I did so deserve it. Six months with no days off in a war zone requires a bit of time to rest and decompress. You will have to take my word on that one. I went back to work a few days ago. Not much is happening. A mechanic generally has no work when all the vehicles are in storage. Needless to say, with nothing to do the last couple of days have been kind of a drag.<br />
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I've missed out on a bit while I was in the Bakersfield look-alike country. Those of you that have been there know what I mean. Anyway, Twitter was ignored for the most part, as was G+. Obviously Blogger didn't get any love either-hence the 10 posts for all of 2011. In fact, not much of what I've done prior to 2011 has gotten any attention. I've been popping in on my usual ethereal locals getting back into the swing of things. I've gotten back into Star Trek Online (yes, I'm a Trekkie, Trekker...whichever), Star Pirates (no relation) and Flickr. The family and I went to Berlin a couple of weeks ago, got some great pictures of the wall. Which reminds me, I need to take more pictures as well. I have a few pictures from Afghanistan to process and post, but not many. Sorry, but I'm not inspired by a place that looks like Victorville, CA. Been there or through there? Then you know what I mean.<br />
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I think I will close for now. I do have a lot to write about, but I think I'll start a bit slowly. Speaking of slowly, I've also been trying my hand...or brain, at fiction. Nothing good yet, but I'll post a little something here in the future. Enough for now. Tchuss.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02241948856604117736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-723898605289924706.post-67165818831308886682011-09-22T08:24:00.000-07:002011-09-22T08:25:09.258-07:00An Actual Conversation "So, SGT Sharp, I have some good news and I have some bad news."<br />
"OK."<br />
"The bad news is that SGT Stafford and I got into a brawl about your Cokes in the middle of the chow hall. He was yelling and I was yelling back. A First Sergeant tried to step in to break it up. I slapped him across the face and SGT Stafford stomped on his groin. He kept on saying 'To hell with your gonads.' It was crazy." <br />
"What's the good news?"<br />
"I got you some orange juice."Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02241948856604117736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-723898605289924706.post-81066003868152774912011-09-12T10:45:00.000-07:002011-09-13T08:37:23.072-07:00A Brief Afghan ImageI am facing to the West with the whole of the camp in front of me. Tents, shacks, vehicles and dirt are what make up my temporary home here. I can see the Afghan mountains in the distance, obscured by the dusty haze filling the air. Even though they are only a few miles away they seem much further. The sun is settling lower in the sky, late afternoon light shines into my eyes causing me to avert my gaze. I look up and see the clouds overhead. They are sparse and gray, filled with the little moisture contained in this dry land, tempting rain. Light spears the clouds, rays of warmth casting shadows on the gravel strewn earth. Two helicopters drift by in close formation, one protecting the other, cutting through the beams of light. This was my day. A day to remember.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02241948856604117736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-723898605289924706.post-71523276018097566822011-08-26T11:00:00.000-07:002011-08-26T11:06:29.597-07:00Talent
<br />My daughter is talented. And here's some proof of that:<div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUOODtEn6zHgCTvsAZI0FtL5kMKnWnDUUp3cQYhxx3lhKPitauhONUWnAIFuCLcKsrHpG8N9LUuwfk6K_L_PZf-_r04jfhKCKOKTh9AVWMHpmvxMSPXS-JlTnmMqg3AG4hUW2Q7GaJhw1_/s320/Bear+001.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645227108010902450" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 232px; height: 320px; " /></div><div>
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<br /></div><div>There are two things that go through my mind when I see this.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>"She did that with markers?" and "She will make a fortune working for Disney some day."</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02241948856604117736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-723898605289924706.post-88275470246168578652011-07-04T23:41:00.000-07:002011-07-05T00:06:00.979-07:00Life Goes OnWow, it's been a while. I have been seriously neglectful here haven't I? And no, that doesn't require a response. I wish I could say that I haven't written because I've just been too busy to write here. That's partial true, but not all the way. I have had time to jot a few words down-if I was so inclined-but the motivation simply wasn't there.<div><br /></div><div>Every time I call up my browser I see the Blogger link on my bookmarks bar. It's just sitting there, looking accusingly at me, reminding me of how horrible person I'm being for ignoring it. I can't ignore it any more. Well, I could, I just don't want to. OK, so the economy is still hell and my time in the military will end in a few years. I could do one of two things. First, do nothing and hope I'll be able to get a job in an improved economy (because it will be all unbroken in a few years, right?). The second? Improve myself by gaining a skill I can profit from-or at least live off of. I'm good at management, but that's not what interests me. OK, so it does interest me to some degree. Running things is something I'm good at. I've basically done it at every job I've had as an adult. But there is no way in hell I'll be back as a manager in customer service again. Those days were torture (but may make a good blog post sometime).</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm currently working as a mechanic, but I'm not comfortable doing that job on the outside. I also like writing, but I don't know how I'd make that a career. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Hmm</span>, I've got a bit of thinking to do.</div><div><br /></div><div>Current stuff: The wife had surgery this week. She was in the hospital from Monday until Sunday morning. She was very happy to be leaving for home, unfortunately the 3 hour car ride didn't make her feel too hot. She was in pain most of that day and the morning of the next. She seemed better last night and hopefully will continue to improve. Got to take her to the doctor today. She's having an issue with her medication. She has to crush up all her pills and mix them with water to take them. Of course pills without their coating on them taste worse than death, so we have to find out another way of dealing with her medication.</div><div><br /></div><div>Good thing: The wife's mother is here to help out. That's great, especially since I go back to work tomorrow and won't be home during the days for the recovery. My daughter is having a pretty good time hanging with her grandmother as well. Benefits all around.</div><div><br /></div><div>There are big changes coming to the job soon. The thing that kills me is that no one has a clue what's happening to me. Am I staying or am I going? No one can tell me, just rumors so far. I know this part makes no sense, but it's something I can't go into depth about now. I'm really hoping they tell me what's what this week. Either I have a lot of packing to do, or I have a bit of stuff to fix around the house and car. Can't do both unfortunately.</div><div><br /></div><div>I know this doesn't make a lot of sense and is probably deathly dull, but I had to get these things out of me and down somewhere. Putting a problem on paper (or in a blog post) makes the problem a bit more real and manageable. It makes them not so problematic. Now, time to carry on with my life.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02241948856604117736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-723898605289924706.post-91517268435122954942011-05-01T13:24:00.000-07:002011-05-07T02:47:26.598-07:00Practice 1, Revised<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in">So here's my revision of the first practice. I added or altered a lot of the material. I tried to add a bit more to the story, add some feeling in the characters. Overall I tried to make it less dry.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in">Everything was going well on the flight. I had a window seat with no one beside me. The flight attendant even gave me an extra pillow. How nice of her.<span class="Apple-style-span"> But the seats were still uncomfortable and I’ll be in the air a lot longer before we land; 6 more hours to go. We’d only been in the air 3 hours, scheduled to land at 5 AM. Way too damn early.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in"><span class="Apple-style-span">Looking out an airplane’s window at cruising altitude flying over the Southwest in the dead of night is not a very stimulating experience. I have better things to do than to stare out at the dark. Eyes drooping, I slip into a haze, thinking about the past and if I will have a future. I remember what I’ve left behind and what I hope I can go back to. This trip is important. I need to be rested for it.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in">“Where’d the guy go that was sitting here?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in">I started from my daze and looked toward the voice. Standing in the aisle was a guy, late <span class="Apple-style-span">thirties</span>, bald with a serious weight problem. He was looking in my direction, eyebrows arched, <span class="Apple-style-span">sweat pouring down his unshaven face. He looked like he hadn’t slept for days. I know the feeling.</span> I rubbed my eyes and took a deep breath, gathering my thoughts. Why was he bothering me?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in">“<span class="Apple-style-span">I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.</span> What did you say?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in">“I said ‘Where’d the guy go that was sitting here?’ Well, where’d he go?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in"><span class="Apple-style-span">This guy looked liked trouble</span> and I sure as hell didn’t want to talk to him. <span class="Apple-style-span">All I wanted was to get a bit of rest before we landed.</span> With the schedule I was keeping today I’d be hitting the ground running. I won’t have the chance to close my eyes again for <span class="Apple-style-span">nineteen or twenty</span> hours. One of the <span class="Apple-style-span">cons</span> of my job-no sleep ever.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in">“Look guy”, I replied “I don’t know who was sitting there. I thought I saw someone earlier but I’m not sure. Ask the flight attendant.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in">“I did ask the flight attendant and he doesn’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in">This guy was testy with me and all I did was tell him that I didn’t know who was sitting there. I did know that I was very tired and going to be pretty bad off if I didn’t catch at least a bit of a nap. <span class="Apple-style-span">Whatever this guy’s problem was, it has nothing to do with me. And also, I didn’t care.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in">“Easy there, fella. I’ve been sleeping most of the flight, which is something that I want to get back to doing. <span class="Apple-style-span">Now,</span> if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be attempting to do just that again.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>I begin closing my eyes, shutting out the noise and light of the cabin. Trying to sleep at <span class="Apple-style-span">36,000</span> feet with a bunch of strangers around you being annoyingly loud is bad enough. Having one of those strangers come up to you and ask a stupid question knowing that you are trying to sleep is something else entirely.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in"><span class="Apple-style-span">“Hey!” the</span> fat man shouted, “I’m fucking talking to you.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in">I slowly opened my eyes and turned toward the aisle. There, still standing by the empty seat, was the stranger.<span class="Apple-style-span"> He was visibly upset now.</span> His formerly pale face had turned a shade not far off from the red commonly seen on a beet, visible capillaries added to the darkened shade. His brows were furrowed, eyes blazing. His teeth were clenched through slightly parted lips. I could see the rise and fall of his chest, pumping like an over-worked bellows. This guy was seriously pissed off and was looking like he wanted to take it out on me.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in">“<span class="Apple-style-span">Don’t you turn away from me!</span> I asked you a simple fucking question, so answer it. Who the fuck was sitting here?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in">I put up my hands and try to remain as calm as possible. With the possibility of violence from this guy I did not want to be here. I was stuck in a window seat, barely able to move my legs more than a few inches forward and back. Defending myself if he decided to come over the seats at me would have been a problem. I was completely screwed. <span class="Apple-style-span">Time to try and talk him down.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in">“Easy man, there’s no need for this.” Isn’t there supposed to be an air marshal on every flight these days to deal with problems like this? Isn’t that way the big hiring push was in the news a few years ago? Where the hell was he and why hadn’t he taken this crazy out yet? “I haven’t seen anyone in that seat all flight. There isn’t anyone sitting there. <span class="Apple-style-span">If you tell me what the problem is I may be able to help.</span>”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in">“Bullshit!” the wacko said. “I saw someone here. There WAS someone here. You had to have seen him. I recognized him. You have to tell me who he was and where he went.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in">“Look, I don’t know who was sitting there. I didn’t see anyone. You sure that you have the right seat. Maybe you’re thinking of the one of the others further down the aisle?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in">“No, he was here” he said. There was an immediate change to the stranger. He started looking less angry and more confused. The color left his face and went back to<span class="Apple-style-span"> his</span> natural shade of too pale. His brows were still furrowed, but they shifted from anger to concentration. “He has to be here, I saw him. I saw him right here.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in">Now this guy had my attention. He was clearly upset about something. He truly believed that someone had been sitting there, someone that he knew. Or someone that he thought he recognized. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span">And that’s when the marshal showed up</span>.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in">“Is there a problem here, sir?” the marshal asked the stranger.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in">The stranger looked dumbly at the marshal. “He’s on this plane, I know he is. He has to be, because I saw him here. He was right here” the guy said as he gestured toward the empty seat.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in">“Who was here, sir? Who are you looking for?” The marshal put his hand around the guy’s <span class="Apple-style-span">shaking</span> right bicep, ready to restrain him if necessary. The flight attendant must have told him about the outburst and he was ready, taking no chances. <span class="Apple-style-span">The guy wasn’t angry with me before, I see that now. He was terrified. The way he was quivering I was amazed he could even stand. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in">“He was.” The stranger looked pleadingly in the marshal’s eyes. “You have to help me find him, he’s here.” <span class="Apple-style-span">Getting frantic now</span>, “He’s on this plane; you have to find him and arrest him!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in">“Arrest who, sir? Who are you talking about? <span class="Apple-style-span">What are you talking about?</span>”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in">Seeing this exchange sends a chill down my spine. I know what he’s going to say before he says it. It’s my job to know things first, to know fact before anyone else does. I see where this is headed and wish I’d taken the later flight. <span class="Apple-style-span">Or at least a different seat.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in">The stranger, tears welling in his eyes, looked from the marshal to me, and back again, his shoulders slumped. All I could see in front of me was a broken man, one that had obviously lost everything. <span class="Apple-style-span">I couldn’t be angry at this man, not seeing him that way. Looking at the marshal I could tell he thought the same way.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in"><span class="Apple-style-span">“Sir, sit here, tell me what this is about.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in"><span class="Apple-style-span">The heavy-set man looked at the aisle seat in front of him. Resignedly, the man collapsed into the seat causing it to bump against the legs of the passenger behind.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in"><span class="Apple-style-span">“Hey! Watch it, that hurt.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in"><span class="Apple-style-span">He didn’t hear, I don’t think he was aware of anything happening at that point.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in"><span class="Apple-style-span">“I’m Marshal Brice, what’s your name sir?”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in"><span class="Apple-style-span">The man looked at the marshal, eyes empty. “Huh?”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in"><span class="Apple-style-span">“Sir, what is your name?” the marshal repeated.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in"><span class="Apple-style-span">“Dylan. Sam Dylan. I’m from Colorado. I’m heading to California to see my sister. To…”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in"><span class="Apple-style-span">The man’s eyes go vacant again, all the energy drained out of them.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in"><span class="Apple-style-span">“Mr. Dylan?” The marshal tried getting the guys attention but failed. Placing a hand on his shoulder the marshal gently shakes him. “Mr. Dylan!” more forcefully now. “Mr. Dylan, you mentioned a man, a man that you recognized. Who was this man and why do I need to arrest him?”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in"><span class="Apple-style-span">“Hmm?” replied Dylan, coming back to the land of the present. “What?”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in"><span class="Apple-style-span">“Who was the man and why do I have to arrest him?” asked the marshal again.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in">“He is…” <span class="Apple-style-span">Mr. Dylan began.</span> <span class="Apple-style-span">Then he looks deeply in the marshal’s eyes, his sight filled with nothing but pain and anguish.</span> “The guy I’m looking for-the guy I saw sitting here…He killed my wife. Two days ago. And he’s somewhere on this plane.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in"><span class="Apple-style-span">Well, so much for me getting any sleep on this flight.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in"><span class="Apple-style-span">I added about 400 words to this story going from 1060 words to 1500. Just adding words to try and make the story better won't work. You have to add the right words to accomplish that.</span></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02241948856604117736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-723898605289924706.post-32045288535111456972011-05-01T03:27:00.000-07:002011-05-01T03:33:43.644-07:00Practice 2<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">I’m walking down the hallway. It’s dark, smelling of rotting trash and mildew. Further along the hallway are doors, several on each side and all are closed. Most of the doors are dark; a few have a pale, sickly light escaping from beneath them. I come upon a pair of doors, one on the left, one on the right. I try the knob on the door to the left, it turns freely but the door remains closed. I try pushing harder thinking that the moisture in this dank place has caused the wood frame to swell. No luck, the door is still wedged firmly shut. Frustrated, I throw my shoulder into the door. The only thing I accomplish is to cause my already aching shoulder to scream in pain. The right door is the same, it won’t budge. The doors aren’t locked but something is causing them to remain closed.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>I hear a muffled crash behind me and turn toward the sound. That is the way I came and I know there are no windows there. A crash again, more distinct this time. I walk slowly down the hall, cautious of every step and straining to hear every noise. But there are no further sounds to hear. There is a door on the right, one that I don’t remember seeing before. This is where the sounds originated. Behind this door could be the answer that I’m looking for.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in">I lean toward the door, turning my head to the left as I listen for any more sounds. There are none. Straightening back up I again look at the door. It is made of wood and painted the deep red shade of fresh blood. On the door is a symbol made of a shining silver metal, meticulously made and perfectly finished. I can see myself reflected off of it. The symbol is a horizontally oriented dagger with a rose vertically behind it. I don’t know what it means but seeing the symbol fills my heart with dread and anxiety. As I reach for the door I feel a chill reach my spine causing me to shake violently for a couple of seconds. The shakes stop as I withdraw my hand.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">There’s nothing there, stop being a baby. Suck it up and just open the damn thing. Hell, this one probably won’t open either.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Encouraging words, but I don’t believe myself. I am afraid; something evil is behind this portal. I don’t want to open this door but I must know. I hesitatingly reach my right hand toward the knob, pausing halfway. There are no shakes this time. I reach the knob. Taking a deep breath I attempt to turn it. But the knob won’t move. Placing my left hand on the knob with my right I try again. Straining, I feel a slight give, the knob emitting a screech that sets my teeth on edge. It’s as if a build-up of rust has started breaking free. I alternate the direction the knob is turned, gaining a little more motion and with each attempt. Finally, the screech stops and a loud click from the knob. There is a pop as the door is freed from it’s frame. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: .5in">I look at the door. I can see that sickly light around the whole of the door now, through the gap that releasing the door from the frame has created. Breathing deeply I close my eyes.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">All this way. All the loss and here it is. Do it for them.</i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">I reach my right hand out to the door. Placing my hand upon it I pause. <i>It has to be done. </i>I breathe deeply one more time and shove the door all the way open.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">And that's it for practice 2. I know what I have to work on and I will come back to this one after a bit more experimenting. And more practice, of course. </p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02241948856604117736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-723898605289924706.post-75509942485220360922011-04-24T23:33:00.000-07:002011-04-25T00:39:22.651-07:00Portable ConvenienceI haven't mentioned my Kindle here yet, ignoring my blogging duties again. I've had it since right after Christmas and have had plenty of time to play with it, so now I think it's time to write about it.<div><br /></div><div>Boring stuff first:</div><div><br /></div><div>The Kindle I got is the current generation 3G/WiFi graphite colored model with a 6" pearl e ink display. Basically what that means is that with 3G and WiFi connections I can get on the internet from anywhere I wish. I'm currently in Germany and have no problems connecting to the Kindle store and purchasing books.</div><div><br /></div><div>What do I think? I think the Kindle is a great idea that's in the process of becoming the best idea, but it's not there yet. </div><div><br /></div><div>What I like about it:</div><div><br /></div><div>The display is amazing. Pulling the Kindle out of the box for the first time there is a message on the screen. Usually, when you buy an electronic product with a display there is a sticker over top the display. But that wasn't the case. The E Ink pearl display is crystal clear and mimics the look of a page from a book extremely well. The type is very clear and easy to read (it is also adjustable to be able to see easier, something that those dead tree books can't do for you). The message itself just stated that the device needed to be plugged in and charged for a couple of minutes, then it could be used.</div><div><br /></div><div>The cord used to charge the Kindle is a no-frills type cable. One end is a standard USB connection. The other end is a micro-USB. There is also an adapter that connects to the USB end that allows charging from a standard 120 volt wall outlet. The adapter can be used with 240 volt outlets as well-with the correct adapter plug, of course. Now that I was charging I was ready to go. I slide the on switch to the right, as per the on-screen instructions, and I was ready to read.</div><div><br /></div><div>Turning on the display causes the screen to go black then white. The words or pictures show up after less than a second. Again, the screen is amazingly crisp, clear and very easy to read. I hate using my cellphone in bright sunlight. The colors on screen wash out and the display becomes hard to read, not so with the Kindle. In bright, direct sunlight the display is perfectly clear-even more so the brighter the light. Unlike LCD displays, there is little to no glare, so there in nothing preventing you from taking the Kindle outside to read.</div><div><br /></div><div>One thing I wasn't sure about with the Kindle-and why I was looking at a competitors model of ereader-is the keyboard on the device. I wasn't sure I'd want or need the dedicated keyboard. I will say that it's not as obtrusive as I thought. I don't use it a lot, but I like it for when I do use it. There are a few buttons on the keyboard that are essential though. You have menu, home and back buttons that are required for navigating the Kindles menus. You also have the 5-way controller (basically a button with a 4-way button bordering it) for making menu selections. All the buttons are clearly marked and easy to use.</div><div><br /></div><div>Getting books to read is simple and with the 3G/WiFi model there are a couple of ways to do it. First, you can connect the Kindle to a computer and manually transfer books to the device, just like you'd do with any external hard drive. Second, you can connect wirelessly to the Kindle store and download books directly from there. Navigating the store from the Kindle is easy as well. Book downloads from 3G/Wifi connections take a matter of seconds and happen automatically. The amount of on-board memory, at 3 gigabyte capacity, is sufficient to store a few thousand books on. Plenty of room even for the most serious book collector. </div><div><br /></div><div>Selecting books on your Kindle to read and reading them are simple processes. Selections are made from the home screen using the 5-way controller. Opening a book will take you directly to the beginning, unless you have already started the book, in which case it will take you to the last page you were on. Turning the pages is accomplished by buttons on either side of the device. There are two on each side-the larger bottom button is page forward with the smaller upper button being page back. As I mentioned, paging through an ebook is quick, less than a second per page.</div><div><br /></div><div>As no device is perfect, there will always be room for improvement. Attempting to navigate the menus quickly often leaves artifacts and can be slow at times. I also found the 5-way click button awkward to use under certain circumstances. Normally all you'll use are the up and down and select aspects of the controller, but when you want to say, search for a word in the built-in dictionary, navigating there can be a bit of a chore. Neither one of these concerns break the device and it works very well for what it was designed for. The quality of the device itself is also top notch, no complaints there.</div><div><br /></div><div>There are more features and functions available on the Kindle, but since I'm not trying to write a book here, I'm going to cut this short. Final word? The Kindle is definitely a worthwhile light weight and easy to use portable ereader. I have no compunctions recommending this device to any book reader. All they have to do now is add a touchscreen and color and the Kindle will be perfect.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02241948856604117736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-723898605289924706.post-79225858795618454282011-04-24T23:26:00.000-07:002011-04-24T23:33:21.167-07:00So Far So GoodOK, so, first practice is up and I don't think it's that cringe-worthy. I know that it's short, it doesn't introduce the characters at all-other than a couple of base descriptions-and there is no conclusion. But, it's just practice after all. As I get further along in this process (if I stick with it like I should) I'm going to need feedback. As I mentioned two posts ago, I know I'll be bad at this, that is why practice is important. And practice I shall.<div><br /></div><div>Now, what did you think?</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02241948856604117736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-723898605289924706.post-66828066969559065282011-04-24T14:57:00.000-07:002011-04-24T23:25:38.135-07:00Practice Begins<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">I mentioned practicing in my last post. Well, going through this book on writing that I'm reading are some practice exercises. Here's the first one. Don't be too harsh, I'm new at this.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">Everything was going well on the flight. I had a window seat with no one beside me. The flight attendant even gave me an extra pillow. How nice of her.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">“Where’d the guy go that was sitting here?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">I started from my daze and looked toward the voice. Standing in the aisle was a guy, mid-forties, bald with a serious weight problem. He was looking in my direction, eyebrows arched. I rubbed my eyes and took a deep breath, gathering my thoughts.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">“I’m sorry, what did you say?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">“I said ‘Where’d the guy go that was sitting here?’. Well, where’d he go?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">I could tell this guy was a winner and I sure as hell <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">didn</span>’t want to talk to him. All I wanted was to catch a bit of a nap before we landed in an hour. With the schedule I was keeping today I’d be hitting the ground running. I won’t have the chance to close my eyes again for another 15 hours, one of the great perks of my job-no sleep ever.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">“Look guy”, I replied “I don’t know who’s sitting there. I thought I saw someone earlier but I’m not sure. Ask the flight attendant.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">“I did ask the flight attendant and he <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">doesn</span>’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">This guy was testy with my and all I did was tell him that I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">didn</span>’t know who was sitting there. I did know that I was very tired and going to be pretty bad off if I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">didn</span>’t catch at least a bit of a nap.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">“Easy there fella. I’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">ve</span> been sleeping most of the flight, which is something that I want to get back to doing. If you’ll excuse me I’ll be attempting to do just that again.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">I begin closing my eyes, shutting out the noise and light of the cabin. Trying to sleep at 50,000 ft with a bunch of strangers around you being annoyingly loud is bad enough. Having one of those strangers come up to you and ask a stupid question knowing that you are trying to sleep is something else.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">“Hey asshole!” fat man shouted, “I’m fucking talking to you.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">I slowly opened my eyes and turned toward the aisle. There, still standing by the empty seat, was the stranger. I can tell that he was upset now, and not just by the tone of voice that he used. His formerly pale face had turned a shade not far off from the red commonly seen on a beet, visible capillaries added to the darkening shade. His brows were furrowed, eyes blazing. His teeth were clenched through slightly parted lips. I could see the rise and fall of his chest, pumping like an over-worked bellows. This guy was seriously pissed off and was looking like he wanted to take it out on me.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">“Don’t you EVER turn away from me again! I asked you a simple fucking question, so answer it. Who the fuck was sitting here?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">I put up my hands and try to remain as calm as possible. With the possibility of violence from this guy I did not want to be here. I was stuck in a window seat, barely able to move my legs more than a few inches forward and back. Defending myself if he decided to come over the seats at me would have been a problem. I was completely screwed.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">“Easy man, there’s no need for this.” <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Isn</span>’t there supposed to be an air marshal on every flight these days to deal with problems like this? <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Isn</span>’t that way the big hiring push was in the news a few years ago? Where the hell was he and why <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">hadn</span>’t he taken this crazy out yet? “I haven’t seen anyone in that seat all flight. There <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">isn</span>’t anyone sitting there.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">“Bullshit!” the wacko said. “I saw someone here. There WAS someone here. You had to have seen him. I recognized him. You have to tell me who he was and where he went.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">“Look, I don’t know who was sitting there. I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">didn</span>’t see anyone. You sure that you have the right seat. Maybe you’re thinking of the one of the others further down the aisle?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">“No, he was here” he said. There was an immediate change to the stranger. He started looking less angry and more confused. The color left his face and went back to the natural shade of too pale. His brows were still furrowed, but they shifted from anger to concentration. “He has to be here, I saw him. I saw him right here.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">Now this guy had my attention. He was clearly upset about something. He truly believed that someone had been sitting there, someone that he knew. Or someone that he thought he recognized. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And that’s when the late marshal showed up.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">“Is there a problem here sir?” the marshal asked the stranger.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">The stranger looked dumbly at the marshal, his face beyond pale. “He’s on this plane, I know he is. He has to be, because I saw him here. He was right here” the guy said as he gestured toward the empty seat.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">“Who was here sir? Who are you looking for?” The marshal put his hand around the guy’s right bicep, ready to restrain him if necessary. The flight attendant must have told him about the outburst and he was ready, taking no chances.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">“He was.” The stranger looked pleadingly in the marshal’s eyes. “You have to help me find him, he’s here.” Getting more frantic now, “He’s on this plane; you have to find him and arrest him!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">“Arrest who, sir? Who are you talking about?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">Seeing this exchange sends a chill down my spine. I know what he’s going to say before he says it. It’s my job to know things first, to know fact before anyone else does. I see where this is headed and wish I’d taken the later flight.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">The stranger, tears welling in his eyes, looked from the marshal to me, and back again, his shoulders slumped. All I could see in front of me was a broken man, one that had obviously lost everything.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">“He is…” began the stranger. “The guy I’m looking for-the guy I saw sitting here…He killed my wife, two days ago. And he’s somewhere on this plane. Right now.”</p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02241948856604117736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-723898605289924706.post-78814416234591721712011-04-21T12:57:00.000-07:002011-04-21T13:52:03.599-07:00Thoughts And WordsNo, I didn't drop off the face of you-at least not intentionally. I know it's been a <i>very</i> long time since I've written here, and I feel ashamed for it. Err, not really, but that's beside the point. I have been neglecting my blogging duties. I should had have my Blogger Badge™ revoked by now, the Publishing Police must be napping. OK, what have I done lately?<div><br /></div><div>So there I was, in the field (and by "in the field" I mean in a heated building in the Hoenfels Training Area in Hoenfels, Germany, not an actual field) working from 9 PM to 9 AM for three weeks straight, no days off. That kinda sucked, but I had time to think. And what did I think about? I know it's going to be hard to believe, but I thought about writing. Writing? But I haven't written anything here for ages. If I'd been thinking about writing why didn't I just write here? I have an answer for that. I was not thinking about blogging writing, I was thinking about writing writing, as in fiction writing. I heard that, I do not write fiction here. This blog is the honest to Spaghetti Monster truth. </div><div><br /></div><div>Was that too obscure or obtuse a reference? Don't know what obscure or obtuse means? Never mind.</div><div><br /></div><div>I have tried to write fiction before, but it never seemed to work out. I mean, it's daunting just to think about doing it. I actually want to create something original and have other people read it. I know the stuff here is original, but it's all me. I want to challenge myself a bit and write about something I don't necessarily know. And that lead me to the idea of writing fiction. Good thing for me I had a story idea or two, or so I thought at the time. I wrote a beginning to...something. I don't know what yet, could be a short story, could be longer. I also threw together a short outline for a story. Unfortunately, the outline has one problem-lack of a complete plot. After a week of fleshing out characters and an outline, I shelved my idea.</div><div><br /></div><div>After I returned home I was still thinking about writing, about the characters that I had outlined, and I realized I needed a bit of help if I was going to get this right. First step: Get books on writing. OK, did that and have read the first one. After I read the rest comes step two: Read more books. Huh? I've read hundreds-if not thousands-of books already in my life, why would I need to read more? Because now that I know what to look for (6 layers of plot, theme, 3 act structure, style, etc...) I can analyze the books in the category that I'm shooting for and see how the professionals do it. Third: Practice writing a little bit each day. I was thinking that this would probably be the hardest step for me. It's not a problem for me to find the time to write, it's just the idea that when I do start to write I will be bad at it. Then I realized: Of course I'll be bad, that's the point of practicing every day, to be less bad as time goes on.</div><div><br /></div><div>And that's my plan, for now at least. It's not much, but it's a start. Do I expect to become a world famous author out of this? No, but I might be able to self-publish something. If I don't get that far I'll still be happy creating something, even if I'm the only one to see it. </div><div><br /></div><div>I can take one consolation from my blog. I have written here a long time now, and I have gotten better. I just need to refocus that experience in a new way. Well, here goes nothing.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02241948856604117736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-723898605289924706.post-40180396459266933252010-11-28T01:39:00.000-08:002010-11-28T01:43:41.935-08:00Marking TimeI had refractive surgery about a week and a half ago, and so far are pleased with the results. Every day my vision gets a little bit better. Partially, that is why I haven't written in such a long time. Well, that and nothing really interesting happening in my life. That's not quite true. One big change has happened recently, but the story is not quite ready to commit to the internets yet. Anyway, got a bit of healing to do yet before I really write about my vision correction experiment. Stay tuned for more details. Or something.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02241948856604117736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-723898605289924706.post-2997006644070798302010-11-07T12:32:00.000-08:002010-11-07T13:10:53.674-08:00The Family That Creates Together...Stays Together.<br /><div><br /></div><div>Now it's time for arts and crafts. Arts and crafts, sounds a little mundane doesn't it? I know when I hear that I don't think, "Wow, this is going to be cool!" And that's because it usually ain't (yes I know ain't isn't a word, but it fits the tone of the opening, so deal with it). When I think of arts and crafts I think doilies, quilts, bird houses and colored paper. Fortunately, you won't find much of that around this house.</div><div><br /></div><div>A couple of nights ago the wife and kid took out the clay and paints. In normal hands you might get a cute animal, a colorful flower or even a decorative rock. But not this family. Here's what they came up with:</div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhzXhzY30KB5TaF8HROSrfe1KEj1llDB8YoN-cZ8AtCXfd2pHKhWbx_1s3G_AQ7Cnz_1HhYEYdMBxJCZBN8nZLBadJIk65zOXK2Sh2gBzlVpUqd5zF8vznd_ll-FFYuNbb3EvEwIzBW5Ds/s320/20101107-_MG_9017.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536911693236774754" /></div><div>This cute little feller is a road-kill possum. How do you know that it's road-kill? First, the x's for</div><div> eyes are a dead giveaway (that was horrible and I'm sorry, I'm horrified I wrote that myself). Second, the tire tracks on his midsection is another subtle clue.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGQWQ4W_n_ILOoBYrMqEs-dej0eQLEdLUdcCMbZ4DP73oUaRd479irEsJ44Jc4leB7S7QXE3dY9xPYK3RdMhqf6ZxjInI9fpY9Kz3YkMhyZT4Ss6W_8UscKHTEz-wWjgtgkvxZOiRmT9Z7/s320/20101107-_MG_9019.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536912684890315858" /></div><div>Look. You can even see his heart.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2aBxeMGmF4upIBQWfLQgcMpf-Cz9MYcm5RehjKpv7q9gzr9eM-7I3Lj-ZAlWmyPv8ownIZEWB-gtcRHNUJPTCeJ3J_xaDsZ98IO33cMZtQM3kH9jezjj0Kshm5Al0THmgBOrE8D5nte7w/s320/20101107-_MG_9027.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 242px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536913739448076226" /></div><div>Now these certainly look edible don't they? Wait a sec...Are those...? Brains! Who would do such a dastardly thing? I'm sorry, but I am contractually obligated to protect the identity of the person that committed this offense due to the fact that they are a member of this household. And the fact that if I gave them up, the next brains you may</div><div> be seeing could be mine.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4MK7J-3x9XQywKZbd6Gdgj5IETSR7zh7jDycjHZDCyB194vqq8dmeGTbC_fhN4fVCKZp7FheCONtmxoRyKEF7KL8-ZQJEE8DDtmaifSeFxGynPF-can9SMGJF_PJ032Ko754maFfyf39o/s320/20101107-_MG_9031.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536915425806297634" /></div><div>We've all hear the saying, "I hate your guts." Many of us have even used it at one point or another. Here's another take on it. How about a pair of guts that love each other. See, there's a heart. Heart = Love, right? These guts are practically inseparable. Really, there's a screw holding them together just below the heart.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>And the prize winner for completely random? I present:</div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTGEYQp6HCzQy-AmiF-rmSz2_Spj5Rh0LSoA9yXP6JcNIt3HAyZUXYOQv1c4v5IhyqF6Q26_aF1L8WQPtiIOe2JidShovVnScBI_w7Aayy4E6edofuSfYTE2hit4UKfyr6r4sTCA6XEoPE/s320/20101107-_MG_9035.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536916810160846786" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>A disembodied tentacle.</div><div><br /></div><div>My family, indeed the people that I live with and have to see every day, scare me.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02241948856604117736noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-723898605289924706.post-17827303147405172092010-11-04T13:24:00.000-07:002010-11-04T14:09:31.062-07:00The Accidental Upside-Down CakeMy daughter's 15<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">th</span> birthday was a couple of days ago, and it was pretty fun. We didn't do a whole lot, mostly stayed home and let her open presents. I also picked up a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Yufka</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Vegitarisch</span> from the local <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Döner</span> place. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Döners</span> are awesome. A <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Yufka</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Vegitarisch</span> is essentially vegetables in a wrap with white and red sauces. Very good stuff. Anyway, back to the point. We also had cake.<div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcEFCdS3hlQo8puoS_cL5YMqYrTRVvpTmv_H1H4vMJ4KlrbV05r3HGMjxg_PY4CJO8ghMdRvCffoRkaipQCI20FhHj_ceGAsD2IN0EqY6V6sw16jcVe46UmW5-V5RkKzZy7DrHtuMv9uKI/s320/20101102-IMG_8900.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535795675135994834" /></div><div>This is the cake. Pretty isn't it? Not really, I know. I chose a pretty obnoxious cake for an</div><div>obnoxious girl. The candles in the upper right are arranged in the shape of a 1 and a 5. Together that's 15. Creative right? I thought so too.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2bjIUdSQLFNFa5kjAMhL8mXKT-AfY2KOnifFtJm_ZVRyzdPT4yZLXBmo3kAttuRlNVtSwjMRcuM9-GkNHNn03hljh-q3tMXV8uenY2d3gOTe0wHNp7jgL1VUCKnH_C7_SIH4_zdQ4NRQG/s320/20101102-IMG_8931.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535796997211824386" /></div><div>Another, more creative shot. Nice, huh?</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>All was going well, until it came time to light the candles. What I didn't realize at the time was that the candles arranged as the 1 would create a giant wall of flame when lit. OK, so it wasn't giant, but it ended up fairly substantial. I lit the candles in the kitchen and had to carry the cake to the living room. For some reason I slipped, and the cake took a header.</div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqDh87wntm-DRIr0AbF6rPP6cLn6TbkQNU8e_HzKXue_grHz8DgHpcM8lnS1dsP4gIs9OYpDsCYdpck3Z1p03GJh040RseHt1ll25lZ754N1ijTxpWcuRrk_2iqOzO1RyehgTcA_bh6p4q/s320/20101102-IMG_8947.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 246px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535797495526501570" /></div><div>See, here's the cake. I don't know how the cake slid off, I suspect suicide. I mean look at that ugly thing. The colors alone would cause me to have low self-esteem.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqRyPi53UwAob3zz-OnNWJHcVWl76J0O00PhGIpEeuXhOzEqT4NTtesKKweM4okJcJ6TzIvwyW1iQWQnMEuTHOEgS5QNjwnXHViTFUOtY6S4QMxN5oe5MeMOBJ7sVoVSSMBwb-vjGZKkM2/s320/20101102-IMG_8949.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 221px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535799212268050114" /><div>I think it's kinda strange that the frosting just fell off of the cake. I mean really, what was that stuff made out of anyway?</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6GFsnCktQGmeq0eNhq88nrayo5Py6sgrP51QZWvGL-ECcCIquPm3nPvnq8QcTVyPk1Ou75P0uHV-W0CnQUxvRFigBkB6SmDhEDHngvXG1scdox7xJmY2SNBgEXtdjjXaxSB4Ygbm5gvhp/s320/20101102-IMG_8957.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535800382713596402" /></div><div>And here's cake number two. I don't know what that yellow thing is supposed to be, but this is much more obnoxious than the first cake and that makes it awesome.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTEI9LV5ekjbLd5X6xmWRK0XjofN67Nxe7kWzk9q2zY1ORgJvgx2S3bz7Q8XtaITE_z7wvncMmwuRCfBiTLARGO6EGv6finyPPRVRznfNlL3jbQ1m7evsHYbYOrjv7JwSijumJtK5QGxGh/s320/20101102-IMG_8969.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535801431368069170" /></div><div>Look at the frosting on this cake. It had to be at least half an inch thick in places. Tasted pretty good though.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Over all I think things went well. The presents were great, the food was tasty and much humor was in the air over the manically depressed baked goods. And the kid had a good time, and that was the point of the party. </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02241948856604117736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-723898605289924706.post-82153521854947785512010-11-03T12:53:00.000-07:002010-11-03T14:33:37.693-07:00Outdoor AdventuresLast Friday a few members of my team and I took a break from work and had our own little adventure outdoors. Of course, being a soldier, I usually get plenty of opportunities to enjoy nature. We have physical training every day, field exercises, rifle range training and ruck marches- all activities that we do outside. All those are well and good, but we wanted to do something a little different.<div><br /></div><div>What we did was try a little bit of canyoneering, which is also known as a high ropes course. It is actually exactly what it sounds like- ropes high above the ground, up to 40-45 feet high. I'll be honest right now- heights (more specifically, the thought of falling) scare the hell out of me. Thankfully, we had some very good equipment, which kept me from falling- twice, and prevented me from becoming a greasy spot on the rocks. The course is laid out simply. There is a cable strung between anchor points on a rock wall. There may or may not be footholds in the wall, so there were several places with small pieces of rebar imbedded into it. Even without the artificial footholds this course was a challenge. To further illustrate: pictures.</div><div><br /></div><div>The course was located near the beautiful countryside near Hirschbach, Germany. In this shot the rocks can be seen near t</div><div>he center at the top of the trees. From this point it was a short walk to the beginning of the course. But, before we began was the prerequisite safety brief. We also learned how to put o</div><div>n, adjust and use the equipment. We had harnesses, two safety lines that attached to the harness and a climbing helmet. We also had to wear gloves, which were available if we forgot to bring our own. One item that a couple of our guys mentioned that may be good for the next go through would be knee pads. One of the team banged his knee pretty hard on the wall. Thankfully, he didn't get hurt too bad and was able to continue after resting up for a couple of minutes.</div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj8tSLPMz-sJXW1fQ89eNU7s4LoKpgi0X09sF62HjF-qYjSkUYb_vQd-Egap9zLgSOgOmPvKWg31n0Vgk1aCYfEec37lMgjkzA5LwutZ6egp5mwunFKN2JyyvLIUL1BkC7kw337NFjQB-b/s320/20101029-IMG_8715.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535419057176641282" /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Here are a couple of guys at the beginning of the course. You can see the equipment and the wall in this shot. This section was pretty easy with plenty of footing. It was also near the ground so the height in this section was not a factor. He</div><div>re you can make out the cable and how it is attached to the wall. every few feet (or as short as a foot) was a cable anchor point. Part of the safety equipment included two safety lines, and the anchors are the reason they are necessary. Navigating an anchor point is easy, just detach one safety line and reconnect it on the other side of the </div><div>anchor. One thing to remember is this: Only take off one line at a time. If you detach both, you could fall. The first challenge of this course is the first corner. It can be intimidating, especially since the height of the cable is much higher. But...</div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8GuYepat9v6ucsfQHS8zZ5oWEEGyAFL4HjqG25_id_kSay5DUYgbC4fbhd-HJMjWN_EXlKkqEtv1J9SLBjkaMo_t2WjcxGeU_EdHWQwhO8goA_D7IxOyStzbcYo3HxPCBsQjG8cMW0AbZ/s320/20101029-IMG_8720.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535421929240979810" /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>This is the reward for taking that step.</div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJXVHcSRgcdBErrbK2MqI03TITZFq3a6t4pNsI7sVC2KqVJCkCms_sdRkSFU38iSMJL9L0or_Me4PqbFJiv1c1VskQeD2BdHkpKdY5s-c-MjbBrun-MVKvU6q6NsHJFaqsspfoK_avpb4h/s320/20101029-IMG_8730.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535424144617188146" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>This is one of my favorite shots of the day. This picture is a bit deceptive though. In it, it looks like Garcia is on a substantial ledge. That is inaccurate. The ledge in the foreground is much closer to where</div><div> I am then to where Garcia was. The cable actually went below this ledge and back up again on the other side. There was plenty of footing in this section, but it was never that substantial.</div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfOeCcxNnyIMPEddjCC0leJ5X-UU4RIwQGb50lBz3fSH6imKUu7mqamOVIbcz28Jl9CRiksaXzWvpt3zT9lxb2fOyaywlc8CqsXjxxC_jJlGm0vpzPBNl_yTzgUuHYMCUW7MFasGaMzrBV/s320/20101029-IMG_8731.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535425516519561666" /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Here you can see SGT Cuevas waiting for Gilson to clear another corner. The top of this section was where Garcia was in the previous shot. As you can see, the cable rises sharply and requires a bit of climbing to reach.</div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKAD4qLzmBehZGoSs4ExowXhlT_NetIMw0aVTKKIY405_y1UUS6EBfR_LDYvbV1Ml98kjtDMuPdnVfUYcifk6TNIVfKN-3CofYaLwoO87j8nN3-CL8zD0mr-GFcvAKh1LxjUI9RESpi_FX/s320/20101029-IMG_8737.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535427219799569138" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>This is the second leg of the first section, and without a doubt, the hardest. It is short, only about 100 feet from beginning to end, but was a very challenging climb. See SGT Kroamer's right foot? That's the last decent foothold on the wall. Let me put it this way: Three of us tried it, two of us made it, one of us had to be helped off the wall. I won't tell you wh</div><div>at happened to whom, but I will tell you I needed a bit of help on this one myself. I also smashed my fingers a bit here, nothing serious of course.</div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh47qBJmIVMLsyL2ex_LvMBHlKViEDY04OSTKLcz6aNQSqJxUPqHr7sGIrYA44S2I08cqyDRz1g55yu-oAGWDCaa3aPTSnYsY4Ps9nsm7ozenLaWY7Lbu9dA6jjzUVyuuhU_QgOqhgP3UKm/s320/20101029-IMG_8775.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535429714596009986" /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>My second favorite picture of the day. This is the last leg of the first section</div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8vR8tvi_ttO1dTBNMeJ_BGfNuwPikDRLAMk96onounzgdPE7KyeBsU9upcu1-hYdbCrCH52BGoejOGQkJidFk4sraY1aFxtHsRQgjUX0RFlIu09ELprYpNvntCLg4Whu9aGoveEK7bc0J/s320/20101029-IMG_8854.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 198px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535431213498979698" /><div>.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>And this is the end of the course for us. Not the course itself, there was one more section. But this second section was more than enough for us. Only three attempted it, and that was because it was a bit easier than the others, just really high up. I </div><div>did try this one, but I got a good shot out of it. See that tiny blue spot near the trees on the left side of the rocks? That's SGT Kroamer. Yes, it was that high.</div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfcHpgBvWDS0jOWYBaBUdBXXdXJr_XEC3XCnrxsnBuzKYpMncF6uCqkr15LCSls8XDQlZ4WQO2qXZ5BDwe_JItdEDkJ6jxEA0ZQYdAwfTagz1d9AOk2VKh_c9mx5jpE7KwMRg-Rl73ivXE/s320/20101029-IMG_8878.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535434439209866834" /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>One aspect that I really like about Germany is the ability to try things that I would never be able to otherwise. We all had a great time doing this, even the ones with a fear of heights. Plans are already being made to come back and do it again, maybe in January.</div><div><br /></div><div>More pics on <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/sharp_imaging/sets/72157625143153227/">Flickr</a>.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02241948856604117736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-723898605289924706.post-44311872041387784822010-10-10T10:06:00.000-07:002010-10-25T10:00:07.370-07:00Scavenger Hunt-Completed<div>Update-The final list of all participants is below, mostly with links to the actual posts.</div><div><br /></div><div>First off, thanks to Antonia Blanca at<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "> <a href="http://liftingmeup.com/" target="_blank" wotsearchprocessed="true" style="color: rgb(87, 151, 176); ">http://LiftingMeUp.com</a> </span>for organizing this little challenge. It was an entertaining and thought provoking exercise.</div><div><br /></div>This wasn't quite as easy as I thought it would be. Although, part of the reason for that is that I tried to think of other meanings for the themes. Without further ado-here are my pics:<br /><div><br /></div><div><i>Concrete</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq1viUSohHJd097bkfCHtxyr8WEMOVUi0aJtNCImIcM89x5ZAih63oSs_9zM0y1nLUZ17fd3p8P3iPagQnVVLJhRbQAY8yqHIHFGVQh83hX4w7CDDlgSKmWDfNPzu5mBwtTqgZN2GnUVHA/s320/20101010-_MG_8331.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 230px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526472102389118642" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Nothing is more concrete than the love a parent has for their child.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Energy</i></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_b7RVJO8m-8XGSxIosWrZiHAX440zw_eGerWbmGbykYNBOa-Oj10zuEHxZh8ZmhXMkXPXaPofPF0L3w-ZTU2SWS5sSEe5oXtc7SQC2ZxgQlcXtX0PdsAbZF2-qE-0yVd3VT4f23afhRwG/s320/20101010-_MG_8322.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526470995003318722" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>What's more energetic than a child at play?</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Lost</i></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSAwbvu6M9nDo38CPH7etCO78rzx8Q1PTUMORLa5wqvNCtUpO0LE4bONq3YKbteq1AwcLFTwC5MGt6e6-_WcWgeluWN9oOstD6ybGmnyJA09JTJCA8FE2i_GrCh2tgom6qKmfXcnzLH14V/s320/20101010-_MG_8341.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526470737972643410" /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><i>Dance</i></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtkY7JwN-RxUZCAYgzjBtUqbnKs3UbsNN_ur8i47ybqOklRZZPsrlYv558Q385n-H1s8c4TO3QveaL_c0YvdRHDFYpZbpzVYjLl2_lk1nb3B4SwFWFYCnF2EVPMdARHv_Ydh3XjiC4rCFC/s320/IMG_5635.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526468090288850450" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Dancing is simply rhythmic motion. Here, the light is dancing across the image.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Autumn</i></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGywW8_ItJTtcY6s0MPc8jiLc6rWh2gjJNdqWYaHmEgaaGa00Ags8FGEcosRwxobut78pO3xJ339vjnOEbb2vFuxNxzKZLbcjmai5HM7r3EhzZqWHxes5zhnLg5l3VERJD-uGEyouYSj1x/s320/20101010-_MG_8235.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526468602532995170" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><i>Smile</i></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgT6lubVtqrWHg5zCsqFWZg_ZwSoHsyV2eZu8WFZagyomD9R7Uudr_GQbKzU5VjUMdGBPtTTJfx7DXzmXxcKsqQqlCX404qqXhIpP8df3yf6-KZV618gpUYhLKBWFCkpobiqjgrlTGEOZs/s320/20070414-Bridget's+4th+(3).jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 232px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526468831409827730" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>This is Bridgett. This day was Bridgett's 4th birthday. Bridgett is the cutest thing I've ever seen. Ever.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Confusion</i></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM1QmNfCpqxwjeL7K3snCkyX1khwP9u44W0U-4BDfffcA16Nst4-hx7GDWWNKmA2kmUCiReso_u2RXNdr-XAmV3R89_A2Ii-wMTucFAcuh-8dGjH8MqV_6_byyMbRfDCRpyvKU7eZUhKYa/s320/20101010-_MG_8346.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526469422227808018" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>After a couple of these the whole world starts to look like this.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's <i>Funny</i> That...</div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3noFB9G4CGqVtZXixu58azBpm8aqAw-1OidCgLiM641p4tfuFlcJTDTZYGRQXXk9y5VR0xvuGeLf6_2b2bcFc8hgZkV5eGeNzBK-5YUjB7KpIV0DBiC0s35p1TVHFJJsNQJVql4qMaTWg/s320/20101010-_MG_8299.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526470077471343170" /></div><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px;">People that have never met can claim to hate a person. It's doubtful that the person that hates the U.S. has ever had a meaningful conversation with an American. It's a near impossibility that they have ever spoken to an Israeli. But they still hate people based on superficial notions.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px;">Anyway, enough preaching. Most of these images were taken within the last few weeks, with the exception of Smile. That one was taken in 2007, but was too good not to include here. So, how did I do?</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; ">One more time. Here are the other participants of this digital scavenger hunt. Check out their stuff too. I know I will.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; ">Lifting Me Up -- <a href="http://liftingmeup.com/" target="_blank" wotsearchprocessed="true" style="color: rgb(87, 151, 176); ">http://liftingmeup.com/2010/10/digital-scavenger-hunt-october-2010/</a></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; ">Jay.Me -- <a href="http://jayme2.wordpress.com/" target="_blank" wotsearchprocessed="true" style="color: rgb(87, 151, 176); ">http://jayme2.wordpress.com/2010/10/10/digital-scavenger-hunt/</a></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; ">Joocy Bits & Wotnots -- <a href="http://funkkeejooce.com/blog/" target="_blank" wotsearchprocessed="true" style="color: rgb(87, 151, 176); ">http://funkkeejooce.com/blog/?p=169</a></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px; ">Photography by Hank Plumley -- </span></span><a href="http://www.blog.hankplumley.com/2010/10/digital-scavenger-hunt/">http://www.blog.hankplumley.com/2010/10/digital-scavenger-hunt/</a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px; ">Pink Dandy Chatter -- </span></span><a href="http://pinkdandychatter.blogspot.com/2010/10/digital-scavenger-hunt-october-2010.html">http://pinkdandychatter.blogspot.com/2010/10/digital-scavenger-hunt-october-2010.html</a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px; ">Soul Energy -- </span></span><a href="http://soulenergyjewelry.blogspot.com/2010/10/digital-scavenger-hunt-october-2010.html">http://soulenergyjewelry.blogspot.com/2010/10/digital-scavenger-hunt-october-2010.html</a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px; ">Click 'N Light -- </span></span><a href="http://weeklyframe.blogspot.com/2010/10/digital-scavenger-hunt.html">http://weeklyframe.blogspot.com/2010/10/digital-scavenger-hunt.html</a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px; ">Be Your Own Detective -- </span></span><a href="http://blog.beyourowndetective.net/2010/10/digital-scavenger-hunt-just-for-fun.html">http://blog.beyourowndetective.net/2010/10/digital-scavenger-hunt-just-for-fun.html</a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px; ">Jerome Aoustin Photography -- </span></span><a href="http://www.jeromeaoustin.com/2010/10/10/a-digital-scavenger-hunt/">http://www.jeromeaoustin.com/2010/10/10/a-digital-scavenger-hunt/</a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px; ">Water Cooler, The -- </span></span><a href="http://watercoolerthe.blogspot.com/2010/10/digital-scavenger-hunt.html">http://watercoolerthe.blogspot.com/2010/10/digital-scavenger-hunt.html</a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px; ">FreakSmack -- <a href="http://www.freaksmack.com/" target="_blank" wotsearchprocessed="true" style="color: rgb(87, 151, 176); ">http://www.freaksmack.com/2010/10/weekend-fix-digital-scavenger-hunt.html</a></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px; ">The Sci-Fi Gene -- </span></span><a href="http://sci-fi-gene.blogspot.com/2010/10/digital-scavengers.html">http://sci-fi-gene.blogspot.com/2010/10/digital-scavengers.html</a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: small; ">Kent Today & Yesterday -- </span></span><a href="http://kenttodayandyesterday.blogspot.com/2010/10/digital-scavenger-hunt.html">http://kenttodayandyesterday.blogspot.com/2010/10/digital-scavenger-hunt.html</a></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02241948856604117736noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-723898605289924706.post-30479530289048051492010-10-09T16:00:00.000-07:002010-10-09T16:23:45.250-07:00I've Been A Lazy Bum This Weekend...<div>And to be honest, for the last couple of weeks as well.</div><div><br /></div>See, a little while ago I signed up to participate in a digital scavenger hunt. For those of you that don't know (it is pretty self-explanatory, but I will explain it anyway). A digital scavenger hunt is one that is conducted by making pictures by photography, drawing or what-have-you and putting it online by uploading or scanning it. This hunt is being conducted by a group of bloggers, so naturally, we are posting the results on our respective blogs. And since I've been lazy these last few weeks I have not completed the assignment. I didn't say I haven't started, I just havn't finished it yet. The good news is that I have another day to do it. But only one more. <div><br /></div><div>A few of the others have already posted their results. I really don't need to do this until I post my pics, but here is the list of people and their blogs that are participating. Enjoy the results, I know I will.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; ">Lifting Me Up -- <a href="http://liftingmeup.com/" target="_blank" wotsearchprocessed="true" style="color: rgb(87, 151, 176); ">http://liftingmeup.com</a></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; ">The Maxwell's Madness -- <a title="http://opheliaclairemaxwell.blogspot.com" href="http://opheliaclairemaxwell.blogspot.com/" target="_blank" wotsearchprocessed="true" style="color: rgb(87, 151, 176); ">http://opheliaclairemaxwell.<wbr>blogspot.com/</a></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; ">Jay.Me -- <a href="http://jayme2.wordpress.com/" target="_blank" wotsearchprocessed="true" style="color: rgb(87, 151, 176); ">http://jayme2.wordpress.com/</a></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; ">Joocy Bits & Wotnots -- <a href="http://funkkeejooce.com/blog/" target="_blank" wotsearchprocessed="true" style="color: rgb(87, 151, 176); ">http://funkkeejooce.com/blog/</a></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px;">Photography by Hank Plumley -- <a href="http://hankplumley.com/" target="_blank" wotsearchprocessed="true" style="color: rgb(87, 151, 176); ">http://www.blog.hankplumley.<wbr>com/</a></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px; ">Pink Dandy Chatter -- <a href="http://pinkdandychatter.blogspot.com/" target="_blank" wotsearchprocessed="true" style="color: rgb(87, 151, 176); ">http://pinkdandychatter.<wbr>blogspot.com/</a></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px; ">Soul Energy -- <a href="http://soulenergyjewelry.blogspot.com/" target="_blank" wotsearchprocessed="true" style="color: rgb(87, 151, 176); ">http://soulenergyjewelry.<wbr>blogspot.com/</a></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px; ">Click 'N Light -- <a href="http://weeklyframe.blogspot.com/" target="_blank" wotsearchprocessed="true" style="color: rgb(87, 151, 176); ">http://weeklyframe.blogspot.<wbr>com/</a></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px; ">Be Your Own Detective -- <a href="http://blog.beyourowndetective.net/" target="_blank" wotsearchprocessed="true" style="color: rgb(87, 151, 176); ">http://blog.<wbr>beyourowndetective.net/</a></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px; ">Jerome Aoustin Photography -- <a href="http://www.jeromeaoustin.com/blog/" target="_blank" wotsearchprocessed="true" style="color: rgb(87, 151, 176); ">http://www.jeromeaoustin.com/<wbr>blog/</a></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px; ">Water Cooler, The -- <a href="http://watercoolerthe.blogspot.com/" target="_blank" wotsearchprocessed="true" style="color: rgb(87, 151, 176); ">http://watercoolerthe.<wbr>blogspot.com/</a></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px; ">FreakSmack -- <a href="http://www.freaksmack.com/" target="_blank" wotsearchprocessed="true" style="color: rgb(87, 151, 176); ">http://www.freaksmack.com/</a></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px; ">CookieVision -- <a href="http://cookievision.tumblr.com/" target="_blank" wotsearchprocessed="true" style="color: rgb(87, 151, 176); ">http://cookievision.tumblr.<wbr>com/</a></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px; ">The Sci-Fi Gene -- <a href="http://sci-fi-gene.blogspot.com/" target="_blank" wotsearchprocessed="true" style="color: rgb(87, 151, 176); ">http://sci-fi-gene.blogspot.<wbr>com/</a></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: small; ">Kent Today & Yesterday -- <a href="http://kenttodayandyesterday.blogspot.com/" target="_blank" wotsearchprocessed="true" style="color: rgb(87, 151, 176); ">http://kenttodayandyesterday.<wbr>blogspot.com/</a></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">And yes, one way or another, I will post my pics by tomorrow evening.</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02241948856604117736noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-723898605289924706.post-84867178786236430822010-10-08T14:16:00.000-07:002010-10-08T14:35:30.402-07:00Lesson LearnedSo what lessen did I learn today? It's a pretty simple one that I plan to follow, at least for now. In way of explanation, let me give you a brief rundown of my day.<div><br /></div><div>To start out I decided to get up early today so I could go to a site I scouted and take some shots. How early? 4 AM early, or in military parlance- zero dark thirty. I did have a good reason for getting up early, the site I wanted to shoot was two hours away and I needed to be there around sunrise for the best light. OK, so that's a bit early, but it would be worth the trouble if I got some good pics right? Except that I didn't get any pics. The area of and around the site had road construction. I could have parked and walked to get a few shots, but I would have had to do so through a few miles of rugged woodland. So that ended up being a wash.</div><div><br /></div><div>After I made it back home I took a nap, I did get up at a time that most people have never seen after all. After I got up I had to do a few errands, to include dropping the kid off at her friend's house to have a sleep over. On the way home I got to thinking: "The light is pretty good (late afternoon) and it should be good for a while longer, why not go find a place to shoot nearby." I checked out a couple of local areas that I'd been meaning to get to, but couldn't find anything there worth getting out of the car for. Then I remembered a place I had been to, but hadn't seen fully yet. The bonus was that it's only about 10 minutes from home.</div><div><br /></div><div>I get there and end up staying for a few hours, well into dark. I got some pretty good shots out of it to ensure the day wasn't a total waste. Check them out here: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/sharp_imaging/sets/72157625122418454/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/sharp_imaging/sets/72157625122418454/</a></div><div><br /></div><div>So what was the lesson that took me most of today to learn? The lesson was that I don't need to go far to get a great shot. There's usually something closer and better that is worth the effort. That and gas isn't cheap.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02241948856604117736noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-723898605289924706.post-90669990159330065842010-09-25T14:22:00.000-07:002010-09-25T14:34:33.927-07:00Back Home AgainSo I just got out of the field again. And because of that, this is my first weekend off in two weeks. So far the time off has been pleasant, except for this persistent cold that I've had for about a week now. Anyway, the family and I have been doing some bonding type activities. The wife and daughter have even been civil to each other. A teenager being civil with a parent? Who could have guessed? They have even spent time together in the kitchen cooking, and not attempting to throw boiling water at each other. They even made a spur of the moment decision to make cookies. I did not help make them, but I did help each them. They were yummy.<div><br /></div><div>This weekend is all rain so I don't know if I'll be able to take my camera out and shoot some pics. I signed up for a digital scavenger hunt a couple of weeks ago and I only have two weeks to post my shots, so I was hoping for good weather. But with bad weather like this I'm just going to have to get creative in the house. Hmm, I just remembered that I'm taking my camera in for a cleaning on Monday, so the hunt will have to wait until after that. </div><div><br /></div><div>And that just about covers what was on my mind for today. Boring, I know. But not all posts can be riveting journalism. Ya gotta have some filler in there too. Maybe next time I'll post some pics here and explain how I shot them instead of just posting them on Flickr. That actually sounds like an interesting idea- to me at least. </div><div><br /></div><div>Tchuss.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02241948856604117736noreply@blogger.com0